Doll Face
by RoseGhostings
Summary: After years, he's back and ready to end the mess that is them. CAndy; Dollface AU; Chucky


Desperate and sobbing he had returned to him, icy blue melted into hazy and bloodshot eyes that begged for forgiveness unbeknownst to their owner, furious and ready to end all of this, this unfinished business that had yet to be solved. And yet, he was determined to remain silent for the sake of his pride, sobs tearing at a chest that caged a heart beating rapidly like a bird trapped in a cage, tears of pure frustration burning holes through him like fire. "I don't need you."

 _Warm, mitten-clad hands had took his that day, and the young boy stiffened, small and cold and afraid as he watched the younger boy above him, cold eyes staring into eyes full of unknowing and child-like compassion for random garbage on the street in a silent daze. "You're alive." The boy not too much younger than him had stated, eyes wide and like a baby deer's, shimmering with wonder only a boy his age could hold. He had flinched away of course, hating the way his heart was racing and breath so ragged it could be seen in the chill the air brought. "Fuck, d-don't touch me, **please**." He scuttled away from his offender with a broken voice, bare hands scraping across the pavement as he tried to escape, ready to run far, far away from the young boy. Anything to avoid being caught. Before he could do so, though, the young boy had stepped forward a bit, holding his hand out in a hesitant form of comfort. "Hey no, wait." The little boy had spoken, voice small and gentle in a way that calmed him just the slightest bit and made him freeze, heart thudding way quicker than it should have been and breath ragged. "I'm sorry. Please don't go." Eyes wide and trembling he froze, listening to what the boy had to say, watching the mitten-clad hand that came closer to him with a cautious gaze cast from eyes as blue and cold as ice itself. "I'm Andy, what's your name?"_

It was the irony of that which made the larger of the two laugh, a warm sad thing that huddled the other like a blanket protecting him from the bitter cold that bit at his insides. "Then why are you crying?" It was a sort of test, a test both equally cruel but solid in itself, as it begged to prove his hypothesis of whether or not the doll's statement had been true or not. If he needed him. If he was wrong in his trust, even in the slightest, he would be dead by now. And yet the doll just glared daggers with a tight fists clenching glinting metal like a safety blanket. Wide, doe-like eyes and chubby cheeks truly did not help in his cause, as he took in the man before him. It was ironic, really, the way they had seemed to switch places.

 _"C-Charles." He stared at the hand for a few moments as if it were something he had never laid tired, fearful eyes on before, finally taking it in his own stiff, icy cold one. The boy smiled, a wide smile full of teeth and pure warmth. "Hi, Charles!" He was hauled to his feet, knees weak and stiff like the rest of his body, and he almost fell back to the ground if not for the boy who caught him by both of his hands. "Woah, are you okay?" It was obviously the first question who came to the young boy's mind, and yet it was the first bit of concern he had been shown in quite a while. "Where are your mom and dad?"_

"You're turning human," Andy stated, as if it truly solidified their situation.

He truly hated this. Being fully human was inevitable, really, as was anything in the art of voodoo. There were always consequences involved in such strong things, and the thudding of his heart and labored breathing reminding him of this like a cruel act of karma.

 _"Dead." It was a solid statement, void of emotion and chilling towards a question he had been asked all too often. The boy, Andy, hadn't let go of his hands, warming them in his own in a sort of manner he would usually hate, but currently held on to with a desperate vigor. "Oh." The boy pulled away for a moment, and Charles had begun to regret his boldness. Coldness replaced the warm calmness that the boy had brought in his presence._

 _Anxiety filled his chest and he had stepped away, ready to run from Andy and forget all about that small moment of comfort and peace. About to run, his arm was grabbed and he cursed, his small self pulled into the warmth of a puffy winter jacket and small arms that held him tightly as if greeting an old friend. He found himself stilled, frozen and stiff until he had melted into the touch._

 _"F-fuck." His breath was shuddered and unsteady. The younger of the two held on, arms gentle and open to protests. And yet the doll did not move. Besides a mumble of defiance towards the cursing by the younger boy, they were quiet in their embrace. It was peaceful._

"Fuck. Off." He spat, steady words carefully practiced to protect them from the shakiness his body was racked by, the undeniable stuttering in his chest causing him to shake.

"Why did you come here, then huh?" The simplest of questions that had been begging to be asked amongst the tension and confusion that stood thick in the room like a fog, bitter and angry and _hurt._ "Just kill me, fucking end it like you've been trying to for years, Ray." Arms spread in a sign of surrender, followed by a bitter laugh so very terrifying and unlike him, hurt shining in those wide eyes of this, unchanging in their age.

They had both waited years for this. A morbid gang of cat-and-mouse, although roles could be debated between them for days. Who here was truly the predator within all of this?

 _They had sat in that alleyway for a bit, talking between themselves about whatever came to their minds. Charles was a timid and quiet young boy, Andy had discovered, avoiding eye contact and nodding along to whatever was discussed, rarely adding any input or opinion unless something sparked his interest. Andy didn't mind, though. He was quite talkative, and the quietness from the other didn't bother him a bit. It was the question of his home that made the young boy's breath hitch. "I don't have one," Just as bold as ever. He hadn't stopped shaking, and yet he forced himself to meet the other's eyes, full of a warmth that comforted his chilled self, hands balled together in his lap. "I live here." He gestured to the city around them and let out a shaky breathe. "On the streets." This seemed to confuse the young boy, and with a sigh of annoyance he held a firm gaze. "I don't **have** a home, dumbass."_

He raised the knife towards the man's chest, hands trembling and shameless sobs echoing throughout the room. Why was he crying? At this point, he really didn't care as the sharp tip touched the man's chest, shaking but gentle in its own hesitant way as he stared firmly into the boy's eyes, conflicted as ever. He could so easily kill him right now, an act that he had tried to commit for far too long.

 _Andy seemed unaffected by the insult, but more by the statement at hand and he frowned, a sad little thing that caused Charles to avoid his gaze in something akin to guilt for worrying the boy. "Don't worry about it, okay?" Of course, though, Andy would not listen. And there they were, hand in hand heading back towards Andy's home, full of promises and warmth and two thudding hearts. "It'll be great, Charles! Mom will love you!"_

Silent and still he stood there, body shaking and an all-too-human heart thudding with apprehension and adrenaline.

 _He had been hopeful in this second chance of sorts, happy in the year that had passed between the two, as close as ever. Andy would often take his hand whenever he noticed his friend's discomfort during any situation, and Charles wouldn't argue against the small act of comfort and affection that Andy seemed so partial to. If it made Andy happy, he would comply. Whatever it was._

"I don't want this, I never fucking wanted this." His words were shaky and muffled in his own mind, foggy but focused as he stared at the knife. "I don't fucking want to kill you!" He dropped the knife and stepped back, his head in his hands as he tried to process what he had just confessed as if it hadn't been eating at him for years.

 _Karen Barclay had taken an instant liking to the shy young boy the moment he had shown up at her door. Shivering and wide-eyed with that messy long hair of his, listening to the excited chatter of her young son. He had been a homeless young boy, a run away that left his home after the death of both parents. He was deathly afraid of the possibility of a foster home, and so there she was, having this little thing room with her son who seemed so intent on keeping him safe. She talked to the boy, although Andy seemed to want to accompany the conversation, gripping Charles' hand tightly the entire time, adding a bit of input here and there._

 _"How old are you, sweety?" She had asked in a soft voice one day, curiosity getting the best of her as she tried to make casual conversation. "He's 11, mom!" Andy had sounded so excited at the aspect of a new friend, so she didn't dare ruin his fun as she nodded and smiled along. Only about two years older than her little boy, she couldn't even bare the thought of such a young thing on the streets alone for so long._

 _He had been helping with dishes when the glass fell, shards of glass littering the floor like icy snow. Charles had begun to panic and cry, breathy little sobs of apologies and promises. He promised not to do it again, he promised to leave if she had wished. "Fuck, fuck I'm sorry, f-fuck." Karen's heart had sank then, like an anchor to the bottom of a endless sea frosted with sympathy. "Oh, no, honey-It's not a big deal, don't worry, I'm not angry with you."_

 _He had ran then, ran away to the room Andy and him at been sharing with Andy in tow. She admittedly ease-dropped a bit. Listening to the quiet reassurances and comforts as the other cried and her son held him in steady arms. She had learned that night that her son and this little boy had quite a connection, a bond so tight that the only comfort he could truly ever procure was from Andy. And so, she had decided that night as she had bent down to eye-level with the little boy, calmed but still so very afraid when he looked back into eyes just like Andy's and listened to the words that he could not process. "Would you like to stay here for a while?"_

 _He hadn't been there long when_ _Charles had begun to realize what he felt for this boy. He hated it, hated the way Andy cared for him and hated the way he was loved although he was undeserving of it. Of warmth, and of the happiness he had so craved. He hated the way he cared deeply for the boy like it was a weakness, as if the boy would get hurt by just being near him. He was so afraid of hurting Andy._

Eyes warm and foggy, his gaze was directed back to Andy, ginger hair disheveled and arms thrown outwards in a sign of surrender. "I fucking _love you_ , Andy Barclay!" His voice shattered in the last few words, only staying solid for a few moments or so. He took a shuddering breath, heart racing and body shaking with tremors such a small body could scarcely contain.

 _He had laughed in the boy's face, a cruel maniacal thing when Andy had brought up the topic of his distance. He snapped then, so very angry for a reason that was unbeknownst to him. "Why do you even fucking care, Barclay?" Andy had flinched when Charles had gotten in his face, eyes glinting with something Andy had never seen before. "Because I love you, Chucky." A common nickname spoken with such a soft voice soaked with tears made Charles furious. "Don't fucking say that, you little shit. I know you're lying." Cold metal was pressed to the young boy's throat held with shaky hands. "I should kill you right here."  
_

 _Andy had cried silent tears, the first Charles had seen from him._

 _"Okay, Chucky. Do it, then." Andy had smiled as he cried and held out his hand as a token of submission to such a cruel fate. A hurt and confused little kid, wanting nothing more than to save his friend from whatever hell he had been facing for so long. It could finally be over, his friend might finally be happy! He would do anything for even the possibility of such a thing._

 _Charles had took Andy's hand for a few seconds by instinct, staring at it in a stunned silence, silent tears running down rosy cheeks. He pulled away, eyes wide and fearful and **angry**. He was afraid, so very afraid of just how much this young little boy crying but still smiling as always, more than ready to give up everything for him, loved him and trusted the soul who had just betrayed him and everything they were. _

_He dropped Andy's hand like it was on fire, stepping backwards and cursing quietly to himself, panicked and crying just like he always did, and the next events of being held back by Andy's screaming mother as he thrashed around had him dizzy and delirious. "You stupid bitch, you filthy slut let go of me!" He had screamed, vision blurry and voice hoarse and deep with malice as he watched Andy stand there with such hurt and pain in those large eyes of his, screaming and crying all the same at his mother to do just that. He had broke free, and lingered not a moment more in that house in a panicked daze, body aching and fueled by adrenaline._

 _And so he ran without another word, running with legs sore and unsteady as they bruised and bled and buckled underneath his weight before he fell to the ground in the cold of night onto rough chilled concrete, sobbing and screaming at himself in the alleyway he grew to despise. The place that had tricked him into having any sort of hope. And then he laughed, bitter and maniacally it bubbled in his chest and spilled past lips salty and chapped he sobbed and cackled into the darkness that suffocated him. That night, he swore he would kill him. He would end whatever they had together once and for all, and he would do anything to complete his task born in anger and fear._

He jumped when he felt warm fingers finding their way through long, unkempt hair equally shaking and just as nervous and regretful as he was, eyes warm and hazy staring into his own as Andy got down to his height, so much harder to do than when he was younger. When _they_ were younger.

 _Of course Andy had searched, searched even after the news reports were released that made his heart drop into his stomach, sick with dread. Sick with the homesickness that his absence brought and sick with regret and anger. Sick because he thought he could help his friend from turning into what he inevitably did. He cried for days, an event that Ms. Barclay would reencounter with such a feeling of pure hopelessness. For his own sake she would forbid him from watching the news, for what she saw disturbed even her._

 _Had the little boy simply snapped? Or had this been hiding inside of him for a lot longer than either of them knew?_

"God, I missed you."

It was such a simple phrase, solidifying everything and meaning so much more than just three simple words, faded by the warms arms that wrapped around him and pulled him into a broad chest that he wiggled defiantly against the attacker, suddenly craving the cold metal of his knife that he had grown to rely on.

 _Charles had always spoke of dark things. Of things Andy didn't understand, of things he only believed were works of fiction before he met that enigma of a boy. But when he would see him on the street corner years later, iconic knife that had been held to his throat glinting in the sun shining down on both of them, doing nothing to ease the coldness their distance had brought._

 _He would see him out of the corner of his eye, a small figure with bright orange hair so very foreign to him, but something that so easily gave him away in the light and the dark because of reckless media. Those uncannily familiar bright blue eyes would be watching him with an untapped intensity, and once a car would pass or Andy would look away, even for a second, he would be gone, disappearing as if he had just been a dream or a mirage in the distant, stemming from a hopeful memory now layered in hurt and confusion._

 _It was inevitable when he showed up, darkness dimming an icy blue stare he had not seen so closely in years, nearly 10 years later and standing silently in the darkness of the man's poorly lit room. It was late, and Andy almost thought he was dreaming when he saw him. He looked so different, but those eyes gave him away. Clothes torn and hair disheveled, breathing ragged and adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Hello, Andy." His voice was deep and like gravel, steady and so very different from long ago. A voice laced in rage and madness that he had only had a taste of before, standing there with a hint of mock friendliness, knife glinting in the moonlight shining upon him like a dim spotlight._

 _Andy was silent, watching with instinctive apprehension. His voice was a hushed whisper when he questioned him and spoke his name, holding his breathe when silence fell. He swore his heart could be heard in the night's silence as it was uncomfortable and full of unsaid words. "F-fuck." Chucky gave a shuddering breathe and Andy's stomach dropped at the pure indecision in his voice. They both knew why he was here. "I-I'm fucking," The doll groaned and stared up at the ceiling, and for a minute Andy had the urge to comfort him like he did when he was younger, but the roughness of the echoing humorless laugh made the younger freeze, only having the power to watch the other stalk closer to him. His freckled face becoming more and more visible as he watched with a silent gaze, firm and still._

 _The doll stopped, looking off to the window and biting his lip with a scorn, and for a minute he was silent as if debating something troublesome inside of himself. "This isn't over, you little shit." And then he was gone, out the window without another word, leaving a stunned Andy Barclay to wonder if it had been was a dream or a very confusing encounter._

"Fucking asshole, let go of me." Although Andy did not budge, firm and warm in an all-too familiar of an embrace. Chucky stilled, breathes shallow and deep, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to pull away fruitlessly. "Fuck, fuck, _shit_." Words trembling and just as unsteady as he was as Andy ran his fingers through the smaller one's hair once again and murmured comforting and forgiving words as his free hand rested on Chucky's back.

"I love you too, Chucky."

Sobs replaced the sniffling and cursing, and Chucky was so very glad his face was hidden from view, as he had stopped struggling and gave into the soft touches and warmth.

"Fuck you, fuck you." He truly hated just how disgustingly emotional and vulnerable and so very small the boy made him feel with his words, with his forgiving nature and soft touches that made him weak and soft. "I'm so fucking sorry, Andy." He had given in thoroughly to the warmth and the gentleness, although he doubted he would ever become truly used to it. "I never meant to hurt you, asshole." A resounding hiccup and gasping breath. "I _never wanted to hurt you._ "

Andy nodded, pulling him deeper and closer to him, shushing him and reassuring him of his forgiveness, as if that would truly convince him. "I know, It's alright."

He held him like that, close and warm and tight as words spilled out until the trembling subsided like the ice inside of themselves had melted and boiled, and only labored breathing remained in the quietness that had settled over the two, and breathlessness took over them both, as no words could be said. "Don't-don't fucking _do that_ , Andy." The doll pulled himself away from the other's warm grasp and looking into warm eyes that he could have sworn held the sun itself.

Andy only grinned, solidifying himself as he realized that his best friend was back and had no sort of mind to wander off anytime soon. He wouldn't be going anywhere, and they both knew it. "Chucky," He put a hand on the others cheek, freckled and soaked as he scowled but still did not move away from the gentle touch. "Come home, okay?"

God how much he had feared becoming human. Soft skin and a beating heart. So small and young and all too fragile in this damn body he was trapped in like a cage, unable to escape somewhere he did not belong. He had not stopped trembling, and sniffles betrayed the scowl that rested on such a childish face as he bared teeth, an expression that looked like he would truly snap and murder the man at any moment, but one that Andy knew all too well.

"Why the fuck would you want that? I thought you were _smart_." Arms firmly crossed, he rolled his eyes to avoid an sort of emotion or eye contact.

Andy chuckled, kissing his cheek. Chucky jumped, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with an all-too-familiar glow that he had previously not understood as he lost a bit of his previous composure and guard. "Because you deserve better than this, because you made me fucking miss you and you owe me." A throaty laugh. "Besides, Charles, you owe me an explanation." Testing the water as his name was spoken softly but equally as firm and certain of himself in this fragilely stable moment.

God that smile he had shown off, so very rare but oh so craved. Andy could've swore it shown like the sun itself, small and adorably bashful and hesitant, hidden by an averted gaze and an extremely foreign little laugh. It was nothing he'd ever heard before, shy and small and gentle, everything that his doll was not anymore. "Heh, yeah okay."

He had been gone for so many years, and a part of Andy hated him for that, a part of him was unforgiving and still confused and all around hurt. But this part, this small little thought in the back of this mind was dissipating, faded by the overwhelming joy that he felt when he had seen that freckled little face, glowing with an angry flush and an aura of pure dread. That moment of pure relief at the discovery of the doll's overall health. He was cruel, emotionally constipated, broken and everything he had ever been, unchanging and so very familiar.

"How do you know I'm not going to kill you, dumbass?" The smallness in his voice defied the tone of intimidation, flinching away when Andy had tried to take his hand. Chucky stood there, hand out slightly, wanting nothing more than to interlock icy, twitching fingers with the man above who he purposefully avoided eye contact with, as he couldn't bring himself to melt into pieces once again, rendered defenseless and emotional.

Andy laughed, warm and reassuring unlike the bitterness of before and now the laugh he had missed so very dearly. "Because you would have done it by now."

With a sigh layered with doubt but an overall 'fuck it' attitude, he took Andy's hand, daring to be brought apart by those forgiving brown eyes that stared onto him with such love. A love that he could not understand and a love that made his insides boil and burn, warmth of an uncomfortable measure heating him from the inside out. Fuck, he was doomed.

Every deep feeling of anxiety and regret was gone when Andy laughed, a joyous bubbly thing that he swore could have healed even the most damaged of people, those with such deep scars yet to be healed and such strong walls that even those who cared enough to try to break down gave up on, something that Andy had already accomplished, resulting in a disgusting display of weakness and raw emotion.

And yet, Andy held both of his hands so tightly like he had all those years ago, fingers intertwined like he feared the doll would run away from him again, and so the doll didn't dare to speak, only looking up into those eyes like sunny oak, hands trembling and heart thudding in his chest as if it would burst out in a gory display at any moment in this stillness.

So close he could feel the heat radiating off of the flustered doll, nearly nose to nose, Andy grinned and squeezed the other's hand gently, watching his friend relax just a bit as smaller hands had stopped trembling and human heart calmed just a bit.

"Let's go home."


End file.
